Dimitri is here.

Once we’d arrived in Cartagena, (apparently the plastic surgery capital of Colombia – supposedly good AND cheap if you’re into that sort of thing), we made our way to Getsemani, a suburb adjoining the walled Old City that we later discovered was one of the sketchier parts of town, populated by hookers, drug dealers and a bunch of backpackers. Having said that, we definitely felt infinitely more comfortable there than in many of the other cities we’d visited, and Cartagena’s laid-back vibe clearly defied the reputation that precedes Colombia. Even the coke dealers on most street corners were friendly, and while they definitely had ulterior motives, you didn’t have to be a paying customer to get useful bits of info from them once they’d struck up a conversation.

Despite being a seriously touristy city, it’s pretty hard not to love the shit out of Cartagena. The beautifully maintained Spanish Colonial architecture, tropical weather, Reggaeton, Soca and Salsa music blasting from every doorway, cheap food and booze and super easy going (and attractive) locals make for a pretty infectious combo. In total we spent a week there, basically just wandering around the city, visiting some attractions (like the Totumo mud volcano) and partying at night on the rooftop of the Media Luna hostel and a bunch of bars and clubs around town, including a Halloween bender on Calle Arsenal which we paid for tenfold the next day. No regrets. Next stop San Andres and Providencia.

Oh and if anyone can be bothered I’ve figured out how to install a commenting system on the blog, so now YOU can leave a comment without having to log in or anything, which would make me happy.

After finally tearing ourselves away from the vortex that is Bocas, we flew back to Panama City, on the hunt for a boat to our next destination, Cartagena. After some extensive research and a bit of luck, we reserved a couple of spots on the infamous German ship The Stahlratte. With about a week to kill before the boat set sail, we kept ourselves entertained playing Risk, checking out the nightlife and drinking beer. Amongst this we managed to fit in a random day trip to Portobelo for the Black Christ festival, an annual event that sees around 40,000 Panamanians swarm into the tiny harbor town for a weird frenzy of drinking, fireworks, and religious fervor that culminates in a four hour parade where a large statue of a black Jesus is carried out of the local church by hundreds of inspired devotees. Combine with this a bunch of particularly eager penance-seeking pilgrims that actually walk the approximately 150-200km (I don’t know, it’s just far) from Panama City, followed by a 2km CRAWL into town whilst having hot wax dropped onto their naked backs, and you’ve got a pretty strange event going on.

Anyway, the day finally arrived for us to set sail. After getting up at 4am, we were loaded into jeeps for a two hour drive down to the Comarca De Kuna Yala, a rough and ready territory run autonomously by Panama’s indigenous people, the Kuna Indians. With their help (in the form of motorized canoes) we had to get to the Stahlratte, which was anchored off-shore in the San Blas archipelago, where we were to spend the next couple of days.

Now, if you’ve ever had an image in your head of the ultimate deserted island, San Blas is the reality. Made up of over 300 islands of varying sizes (some are no more than 5x5 meters) complete with white sand beaches and coconut palms, the archipelago consists of  crystal clear water, coral reefs, a few Kuna villages, and not much else. Basically it’s incredible.

So after taking some time to get acquainted with the boat and it’s kooky German crew, we spent the next few days exploring the area, swimming from island to island, snorkeling some incredible reefs, swinging on a rope off the boat, having beach bbq’s with insane amounts of lobster, and drinking a lot of rum.

Unfortunately all this had to come to an end, and on the third day the boat set sail for Cartagena, leaving San Blas behind for a two day voyage on the open sea. After some initial issues with sea sickness, we settled into the rhythm and spent the next two days lazing on deck in the sun, reading, sleeping and doing not much else as the boat made its way to Colombia. Finally on the morning of the fourth day we spotted the tiniest hint of land on the horizon, and within a couple of hours the skyscrapers of Cartagena came into view. It was a beautiful thing. Little did we know that we’d have to sit for 8 hours anchored in the port while Colombian immigration processed our passports, but all was forgiven after a few beers and an amazing sunset over the water. Eventually we made our way to dry land, and so began our love affair with Colombia.

While in Bocas we decided to get our PADI Open Water Diver certification, as it’s actually one of the cheapest places in the world to do it, probably due to the notoriously low visibility of the water. So, paired up with our trusty instructor Roosevelt aka Chombo, we got stuck into three solid days of classroom theory, confined water dives and open water dives, and despite running out of air 18 meters under the sea, I didn’t drown once and still managed to get certified. Diving is definitely a good time.

Once we were done with Isla Grande, we headed back to Panama City to catch our flight out to the supposed paradise of the Bocas Del Toro archipelago. After one of the sketchiest flights and landings I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing, we finally arrived on the main island of Isla Colon.

As we pretty quickly discovered, Bocas is not entirely the out-of-the-way island paradise we had anticipated. Well and truly infiltrated by aging American tourists, Bocas can definitely give you the sense of being a Caribbean styled theme park at times. Having said that however, it’s easy to get over the occasional cheesiness, and falling into the easy-going way of life on the island becomes almost obligatory.  While there’s not a hell of a lot to see on Isla Colon itself (the good beaches are all a bus or boat ride away), we kept ourselves busy doing open water diving certifications, checking out the amazing Cayo Zapatilla islands and the picturesque beach of Bocas Del Drago and drinking a heap of Pina Coladas at the floating Pickled Parrot bar. Special mention also has to go out to Alberto and Marcella, the Italian couple who kept us well fed, well boozed and well slept at their hotel and restaurant Cala Luna, definitely the best (and cheap) place on the island. I pretty much blame them for us staying there a week longer than anticipated. Also hi to Jenny Bastimentos, we’ll see you in NY soon.

So after a couple of post-Inca trail recovery days back in Cusco, we had to figure out what we were going to do next. Originally the plan had been to head down to Lake Titicaca and make our way into Bolivia from there, but we pretty quickly decided that we’d had enough of living at altitude, and were after something a little warmer.

With that in mind, we booked the first flight out of Cusco to Panama City, which we planned to use as a stepping stone for some island hopping in Bocas Del Toro and eventually San Blas. Once we arrived at our hostel, we got chatting to the owner Stuart, who strangely enough was an Aussie AND used to live around the corner from us. Turns out he was heading up the coast to Portobelo the next day and spending a night in Isla Grande, and he asked if we’d like to tag along. So we did, and it was excellent.

Portobelo is a tiny little port town in the province of Colon, scattered with the ruins of old Spanish forts destroyed in a series of attacks by the infamous pirate Captain Morgan. It felt kind of like you had walked onto the set of Pirates of the Caribbean, which was pretty fun. From there we headed to Isla Grande, which despite the name is a really, really small island about a five minute boat ride off the mainland, and is basically the perfect Caribbean island stereotype. There wasn’t much there except for boats, palm trees, a few tiny bars and ‘restaurants’ sitting on wooden boards over the water, and a shitload of crabs. It was perfect.

Highlights: Climbing the abandoned lighthouse on Isla Grande, chasing frogs and crabs while drunk on dollar beers and playing with monkeys.

Lowlights: Worrying that Jane had gotten rabies after being bitten by one of the monkeys. Turns out she was fine though.

So I pretty quickly discovered that the Inca trail is not really as easy as everyone told me it was. Four days of trekking and camping at altitude can seriously take it out of you, so much so that at times I was left wondering why the hell I had paid so much to dump myself in the shit we were going through. However with the incredible views, ample amounts of coca leaves to chew, and the big unveiling on the last day, it all became very, very clear.

Like Cusco, the Inca trail and Machu Picchu are probably the most recognizable tourist attractions in South America, but I guess being one of the Seven Wonders of the World, you kind of let the occasional tackiness and throngs of tourists slide. The down side? After stumbling out of the wilderness from four days of grueling trekking, you’re faced with a shitload of shiny, clean tourists who beat you there after catching the train that morning from Cusco. The up side? Check the photos.

3300 metres above sea level, Cusco is a small town nestled in the Peruvian Andes, and is the starting point for most people’s pilgrimages along the Inca trail. Once an Inca stronghold, Cusco was invaded by the Spanish a few hundred years ago, creating a weird mish mash of Spanish colonial and original Inca architecture, which would be pretty interesting if it wasn’t for the fact that Cusco has basically had the life sucked out of it by its main industry, tourism. To look at, Cusco is an amazing place made up of tiny cobbled alleys, pokey little shops and insane cab drivers, all surrounded by mountains covered in red dirt and yellow grass, but unfortunately the city itself is filled with touts and would-be promoters, peddling everything from woolen Peruvian beanies, to crappy toy llamas, to massages and shitty drink deals at the local bars and night clubs. However if you can get past the touts and the fact that tourists make up more of the population of the city than actual locals, you can find another side to Cusco, with some great restaurants, strange little bars and interesting people. All in all it’s a pretty fun time, as long as you can cope with the altitude.

Once we got into Chile we headed straight to the capital city of Santiago, eventually finding our way to barrio Bella Vista, the suburb where we were staying. Seeing as we only had one full day in Santiago, and there happened to be a large hill that overlooked the entire city just around the corner from our place, we decided that getting to the top of the hill was our best option to see the whole place in a day. The view was actually amazing, so in celebration we spent the remaining eight hours of the day drinking beer and pisco sours at a bar on the street, which turned out to be another excellent way to see the city. The next morning we were up at 3am to catch an early flight to Cusco, Peru. Hurty.

From Mendoza we decided to catch the bus across the border to Santiago, as we’d heard the drive was pretty spectacular. The rumours were true.

As you make your way into the mountains from the Argentinean side, the desert slowly becomes more and more snow covered until you’re driving amongst the snowcapped peaks that you’d previously only seen from miles away. Even stranger are the random ski fields on either side of the Chilean/Argentinean border, essentially in the middle of nowhere, but with some of the best untouched snow I’d ever seen.

Once you start heading down into Santiago, the landscape changes again, becoming lush, green and almost tropical, which was kind of unexpected, but quite awesome.